


I Ain't the One

by conniptionns



Series: Good Enough [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, sick neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniptionns/pseuds/conniptionns
Summary: After retiring from exy, Neil is faced with an illness and Andrew realizes that his life isn't worth wanting without Neil. When Ichirou comes to exact his final payment, how will the men respond?





	1. Lovesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How ironic that it wasn’t the Butcher of Baltimore’s men—or even Ichirou’s—that got Neil in the end. It wasn’t from exy or running away. It was something entirely avoidable, and Andrew had given it to him. He hoped that he died along with Neil.

Neil hadn’t complained, and as mad as Andrew was, he wasn’t surprised. The symptoms had been there the entire time: persistent coughing and wheezing, fatigue, loss of appetite, weakness, shortness of breath, hoarseness. Neil had even coughed up blood but Andrew didn’t find that out until much later. Andrew didn’t know how serious it was until Neil’s lung collapsed and he blacked out from lack of air.

Andrew had been in the shower, he didn’t normally shower in the afternoons, but he and Neil were going out for dinner and Andrew had been working on his car earlier in the day and wanted to wash off the grease. When he got out, Neil was already unconscious on the floor. At first, Andrew thought it was a joke and teasingly toed Neil in the ribs, but when Neil didn’t move or even breathe, Andrew was concerned.

The 911-operator talked Andrew through chest compressions until the ambulance arrived. They asked if he thought Neil had taken anything, and Andrew vehemently insisted that Neil would never do drugs. Andrew thought of anything that could help him now, and every small cough or sniffle was catalogued. The perks of an eidetic memory meant that he knew exactly when the cough started and how long the bouts of coughing persisted.

When the younger EMT got a gleam in his eye, Andrew had hope that maybe they knew what was happening. Andrew expected bronchitis or pneumonia, so when the man inserted a tube into Neil’s chest Andrew reached for knives that were no longer there, a reflex. When air started coming out of the tube, Andrew sat down hard.

“His lung collapsed,” the man said with wonder.

“What does that mean?” Andrew asked in a tight voice.

“It could mean any number of things,” the older EMT said a tone that was both soft but also brokered no extra kindness, “we won’t know the full extent until we’ll able to get him a chest x-ray. The fact that he’s still unconscious is concerning. Administering CPR.”

As they pulled into the hospital, Neil coughed so hard his lungs rattled, but Andrew was happy because if he was coughing it meant that he was breathing on his own.

“Mr. Josten? You’re in an ambulance, we are headed to Grady Hospital. You were unconscious with a collapsed lung. You’re breathing on your own now, but it’s imperative that you do not remove the oxygen, the tube in your chest, or the IV in your arm,” the younger EMT said while shining a light into Neil’s eyes and checking his vitals.

“’Drew?” Neil croaked, his throat was dry and scratchy after coughing so hard.

“I’m here, Neil. I know you don’t need me to protect you anymore, but I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re in the hospital.”

The EMTs glanced at one another, as if to say that there was no way that Andrew could promise that, but they weren’t going to give or take away false hope. What they didn’t realize that Andrew was a man of his word, on pain of death, and nothing would touch Neil Josten, not even death itself.

They got Neil in for a chest x-ray and then they moved him into a room while they waited for the doctor to come by. The nurse was an older gentleman named Morris, he was very gentle with Neil and accommodated Andrew by letting him be the one to clean up Neil whenever he coughed up blood. When Morris was on his break, he even brought Andrew a coffee from the café around the corner since there wasn’t enough sugar in the hospital to make the swill they tried to pass as coffee palatable for Andrew. Andrew hoped that the doctor would be equally as attentive.

They met the distracted doctor about an hour and thirty minutes since they arrived in the hospital. He apologized profusely for the wait, there was no helping the speed in navigating a crowded hospital filled with patients he needed to see. Andrew could blame him though, but the look Neil shot him kept his mouth shut. For now.

“All right, Mr. Josten,” the doctor nodded towards Andrew before adding, “Mr. Minyard, let’s get a look at those x-rays.” The doctor walked over towards the wall and fit the x-rays into the metal slots before turning on the backlight. “This is a normal lung,” the doctor said, circling Neil’s left lung with his pen. “What we have here,” he moved the pen to the right, “is your lung that collapsed. I would wager a guess that it has to do with this mass right here.” The pen dropped down to the cotton-like shadow in the lower half of Neil’s right lung.

“What does that mean?” Neil asked, before Andrew could open his mouth.

“This pattern normally indicates a tumor, Mr. Josten. Now normally, I would start with a biopsy, but—“ the doctor paused with significance while looking at the x-rays, “this mass has caused your lung to collapse and at this point is a hazard to your health, malignant or no.”

“He has cancer?” Andrew asked, squeezing Neil’s hand.

“Without a biopsy of the mass, Mr. Minyard, I’m afraid to say it’s impossible to tell. Here is the good news: this mass is operable. We can remove it and do a biopsy of it and then we will move on with treatment from there. There are all types of tumors that can be placed into the malignant, or cancerous, category or they are considered benign, or non-cancerous. Because there are so many, there’s no definitive way to say which of the two categories it is without a biopsy.

“Most benign tumors are not operated on and they do not hinder the patient in any way, but I believe Mr. Josten’s sent him into pulmonary collapse and it is because of this I would recommend that we remove the tissue. I would also suggest that we immediately start Mr. Josten on a strict antibiotic regimen to clear up this nasty cough. I will see about finding an open OR.”

Soon after, Neil was taken into surgery and Andrew was left alone with his thoughts. How ironic that it wasn’t the Butcher of Baltimore’s men—or even Ichirou’s—that got Neil in the end. It wasn’t from exy or running away. It was something entirely avoidable, and Andrew had given it to him. He hoped that he died along with Neil.

He could probably count every cigarette that he had ever given Neil. All the times Kevin had lectured him on the health risks of smoking, but at the time, Andrew hadn’t cared. Andrew didn’t care about the repercussions because Andrew didn’t care if he died. Part of Andrew probably started to smoke for that reason exactly. It wasn’t the reason he continued smoking, of course, Andrew was no longer that self-destructive. It was a hard habit to break and nicotine and caffeine were his two vices, he hadn’t ever planned on giving them up.

But Neil was going to die. The bustle of the hospital wouldn’t turn into a dull roar. Andrew heard ever scuff of sneakers on the tile, the clack of the shoes of business men and women, the rolling sounds of carts being pushed down the hall, the telephones ringing. He could hear coffee percolating somewhere and the sound of the intercom. The man two doors down was having a fight with his wife over the sleeping body of their son—Andrew knew this because the wife kept saying that the boy was sleeping. There was no way that Andrew could be alone with his thoughts. The sounds built like a balloon being filled with air pressure. Andrew was at his max capacity and he knew that he was about to burst.

He left Neil’s hospital room to go outside to have a smoke. How fucking poetic. Here he was, having a cigarette while Neil lay inside having a possibly cancerous tumor removed from his lungs. It should be Andrew that had the tumor. He had done everything he could in this life to prove to any higher power that he deserved it. He didn’t know what Neil had done, except be a martyr every fucking day of his life. Like he said, how poetic. He flicked the butt to the ground and lit up a second and fished his phone out of his pocket. It was Neil’s. He rolled his eyes and dialed a number he had memorized long ago.

“Neil, I’m surprised to hear from you,” came the soft voice of an older woman.

“It’s Andrew.”

The voice got softer around the edges, more affectionate. “Andrew, it’s so good to hear from you. Did you grab the wrong phone when you went out the door? My husband and I kept doing that until I got us different color cases. Or well, I got him one, I still use the bumblebee case you got me. It’s very cute, but listen to me, prattling on, is there something you needed, Bug?”

Bug, an ugly but affectionate term that the two had used for years. Bee had insisted that if he was going to call her Bee that she was going to name him after some bug too, she never was too creative.

“I think he’s dying, Bee,” Andrew said morosely, blowing out a stream of smoke, feeling the nicotine relax him around the edges. He could hear her moving to sit up. He could imagine that she had been lounging on the couch with her feet in her husband’s lap. Her husband worked from home on Wednesdays and she would usually take off to be with him.

“Baby, who?”

Tears pricked at Andrew’s eyes, and he was so fucking mad. Mad that he had made his family and that he didn’t keep them from getting sick. It was only last year that he had gone to see Bee in the hospital, the same woman he saw as a mother figure, after years of looking for a mother he found her and almost lost her. And now he was going to lose Neil. She only ever called him Baby when she could tell he was really distraught, because there was no way that an emotionally sound Andrew Minyard would consent to being called such a thing. He wasn’t going to cry though. He took another drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

“Neil has a tumor. They’re operating right now. They don’t know if it’s cancerous yet, but I can’t help but think it is. I was looking it up on my phone on the way down here, and they don’t operate on benign tumors. I think they were just trying to give him hope, going into surgery. And I am worried, well not worried, I don’t know what I am but I—“

“Baby, breathe.” And then away from the phone, “Go start the car. Andrew needs us.” Then she was back, “Tell me where you are Andrew. Okay? Can you do that for me? Can you sit down? Okay, now tell me what you see. Parked cars? That’s good sweetie. Can you see a sign? Grady Memorial West Wing. That’s good, now put your head between your knees and breathe. If you have a cigarette be careful not to burn yourself, I’m on my way. Stay right where you are.”

She didn’t hang up. Andrew appreciated that, content to hear her breathing and occasionally directing her husband where to turn. Eventually a small Mazda pulled up under the pavilion and she was there, all soft edges, smelling of that shitty perfume she insisted on wearing, mostly alcohol and a heady, syrupy fragrance, but she was there and he let himself be held, because he didn’t know if he could hold himself together anymore.

Her husband had pulled away from the curb, but she wasn’t concerned, she pulled Andrew to his feet and led him back inside, snatching the cigarette from between his fingers and crushing it beneath her potato shoes. Andrew was almost hysterical, she came to the hospital in her pajamas with a wine stain down the front and her hair in a sloppy knot. She didn’t care about her image, she cared about Andrew. She led him towards the front desk, but he led her over towards the elevator, he knew where Neil’s room was.

She had her arm around his waist, something that had occurred about five years prior, something that he was very proud of, but she wasn’t thinking about that. She was clucking over the cigarette burn on his jacket sleeve. She insisted that he pull it up so she could check his arm, and he did so, not once thinking about the scars that littered his arms, they were a point of pride. Proof of survival.

Once she was appeased that he hadn’t accidentally burnt himself, she allowed herself to be led to Neil’s room. It was still empty, so she deposited Andrew in the chair and headed towards the nurse’s station to get some information out of anyone willing to give her the time of day.

Morris was there, and he was very accommodating. He told her that didn’t have any information on the surgery, but he did know that Neil would be back in his room within the next fifteen minutes because the surgeon was scheduled for another surgery in thirty minutes, and unless they were under a Code Black, all surgeons had a mandatory twenty minute break between surgeries.

And he was right, Neil was wheeled into the room about seven minutes later, mostly conscious, but still heavily affected by the anesthesia. Andrew immediately went to Neil’s side while Bee stood and faced off against the doctor, standing toe to toe.

“What’s the word?”

“The surgery was a success and Mr. Josten’s tumor has been successfully removed, along with the lower quadrant of his lungs. This should not greatly impede the quality of life. I will have more news once the biopsy is complete and the results are finalized. We took the liberty of looking for other tumors, and it appears that Mr. Josten has none that are visible. I went ahead and had a blood test done while he was in surgery and the results from that are back. Mr. Josten does not have Leukemia or any other blood borne disease.”

She thanked the doctor and he left, but Andrew wasn’t really paying attention to them. He had wormed his way into the hospital bed with Neil, and Neil was sleeping with his head on Andrew’s shoulder.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he, Bee?” Andrew asked in a small voice.

“Of course he will, Bug, we’re going to make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @conniptionns


	2. Lovecaught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil's final prognosis is revealed, and Andrew thinks about how much nothing has come to mean to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you tried to comment more than once to make it meet the 20 comment minimum. It worked lol :P

“Pass me a cigarette?” Neil asked, as he and Andrew sat on their little balcony reading. Andrew leveled him a look that said, ‘you have to be joking’ and Neil shoved him. “I don’t have cancer, Drew.”

“Cancer or no, you’re not touching cancer sticks anymore,” Andrew said, flicking his forehead. There were wrinkles across that forehead, and along with freckles, there were age spots that Andrew had never noticed before; not many, Neil still looked fairly young, being as fit as he was. He was starting to show his age, and Andrew never wanted him to stop aging. He wanted to see the slow change right before his eyes, every day. Now he understood why Bee stayed home with her husband on Wednesdays, even though she had put off retirement. There was something incredibly special about sharing your small changes with someone every day and seeing there’s in return.

Neil threaded his fingers through Andrew’s. “I always liked our little smoke breaks. Time for just us. To talk or not talk. I think I’ll miss it.”

“More than you miss half of your right lung?” Andrew snarked back.

“I have a lung and a half, that’s more than some people. Anyway, you’re the one always running your mouth,” Neil teased, going to stick his tongue in Andrew’s ear.

“That’s disgusting,” Andrew said, smacking his head away. “Abram, no one on this planet is going to believe that you do not control the mouth in this relationship. You never know when to shut up. I’m always pulling you out of shit that your mouth gets you into.”

“Be that as it may,” Neil murmured into Andrew’s neck, “There are two mouths in this relationship and I can think of better things they can do than talk.” He nipped at Andrew’s neck.

“I’m not letting you smoke, but here.” He thrusted a slim carton into Neil’s hand. A pack of gum. Neil laughed, unabashed.

“Don’t play coy with me, Andrew Minyard,” Neil said, pinching the soft skin under Andrew’s ribs. Andrew was still the strongest of the Foxes, but since his retirement he wasn’t working out enough to work off all that he ate. Andrew had a pudgy little puppy belly and Neil loved every inch of him.

“I thought it was something we could do together, instead of smoking,” Andrew said, going to thump Neil on the nose. Neil bit his finger instead.

“It’s a great idea, _baby,”_ Neil teased.

“Oh, you heard that did you?” Andrew laughed, picking up Neil and throwing him over his shoulder. Neil’s head bumped into the sliding door and he yelped out a swear, but Andrew couldn’t find it in himself to care. Neil was alive to bitch at him.


	3. Lovewrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichirou comes to exact his payment from Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I'm not sure what the feck happened with this story. I blame annimfl, admit to your SINS
> 
> I was listening to hell is where i dreamt of u and woke up alone by blackbear and this happened,,,sorry?

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Josten.” Came a voice from inside the house.

Neil had only just opened the door moments before. Andrew had been standing behind him, pressing kisses into the back of his neck while Neil tried to jam the key into the lock. They had just left a Fox reunion dinner at a little Italian restaurant, Dan and Matt’s youngest daughter would only eat pasta or chicken nuggets and the entire team had agreed that pasta sounded better than fast food. Andrew had imbibed on wine, telling Neil that he would have to drive because the only way Andrew could stand being around all of the Foxes again was if he was wine drunk, eating chocolate cake. Neil had laughed, snatching the keys out of the air as they walked into the restaurant. Andrew always affected a tortured demeanor as if he didn’t come to the reunions every year, as if it wasn’t his boxy handwriting that had written the reminder on their calendar. Andrew was tipsy and filled to the brim on good food and he had been in a coquettish mood the entire way home, walking to the car with his left arm wrapped around Neil’s lower back, his left hand deep inside Neil’s pocket; pretending to look for the keys as he flicked off Kevin’s distracted wave as he kissed his very pregnant wife, Thea.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Andrew was unzipping Neil’s pants like he was 19 again extremely horny. Neil had smacked his left hand against the window and wound the other hand through Andrew’s blond hair, admiring the way the silver hairs that were scattered throughout it glimmered in the streetlight. When Andrew smacked his head on the steering wheel, both men decided it was time to move the party to less daring locations. Car oral sex at 20 was playful and forbidden, at 45 it meant waking up with a crick in your neck and a bad back the next day.

Just because they were older now didn’t mean that Andrew couldn’t make Neil breathless. They stood under the yellow light that spilled out over the front stoop. Andrew had one hand holding Neil’s unfastened pants up and his other hand reached past Neil to snag the door and hold it in place so he could press Neil against the cool, dark glass. Andrew was sucking on Neil’s earlobe when the steely voice came from inside of their house.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Josten.”

Andrew’s hand slid off the door and it swung open slowly. His hand was still fisted at Neil’s hip, holding his pants up. Neither man moved. Not Andrew to stand in front of Neil, nor Neil to fasten his slacks. Neil stood, arm out, blocking Andrew from whatever would come from inside the house. He thought he was done with the past catching up with him in ways that he didn’t expect. It was a voice that he didn’t think he would ever hear again. The last time he heard that voice was the day after he retired from exy permanently and decided to teach recreation kids teams as opposed to getting a high paid position from any of the teams that were vying to take him as their coach. He was lucky to get away with his life that time. Neil had been used being threatened, but then again, Neil was always barely escaping with his life.

“Lord Moriyama,” Neil said formally before ducking into a small bow. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Let us not suffer through small trivialities, Mr. Josten. You and I understand one another, do we not? I will be quick with my request and get out of your hair and you will never have to see me again.”

Neil was shocked into silence, he hadn’t been expecting to ever see Ichirou again, yet here he was, in his home.

“I have come here with my son, Jiro. As you know, my son Kazuo is my heir. Unfortunately, I do not possess a brother to raise my son.”

There is a pregnant pause and it is evident that the murder of the other son Kengo is flashing through everyone’s mind.

“It is as I said. I require someone to raise Jiro, and if you remember, you skirted the line of disrespect when you retired from exy. Choosing, unlike Jean, to not coach exy and have your salary pay your debt to me. I was lenient and I am here to exact the rest of my payment.”

Andrew’s hand at Neil’s hip started pressing harder, but there was nothing he could do to stop what had already begun before they ever opened the door. There were likely guards hidden everywhere, guards that would spot Andrew before he could turn around and pinpoint their location in the dark. He just had to hope with every ounce of who he was that Ichirou would show more of his uncharacteristic mercy to them once again. Neil had almost died in a hospital bed, just a year before, and Andrew had wanted to die at his side. Now, pressed against Neil’s back, Andrew took comfort in knowing that if Neil died, Andrew would also go with him. Andrew closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the dip between Neil’s neck and shoulder and waited for oblivion.

“I have conditions, of course,” Neil said, making Andrew pinch him where no one could see his hand move. Andrew didn’t know what sort of game Neil thought this was, but the fucking martyr was resurfacing.

“You likely would not be yourself if you were not trying to leverage a man who had complete control over your life.” Ichirou sounded mildly amused and Andrew decided to take it as a sign of hope.

“I will not raise him how Tetsuji chose to raise Riko. I do not know what sort of deal he and Lord Kengo had in mind, but if I do this, this child will not turn out anything like Riko.” Neil was relaxed considering the situation they were in and Andrew was swearing up a storm in his mind, but stayed oddly quiet behind him, letting Neil make his own bargains. Andrew knew that Neil had them both in mind and Andrew would follow him wherever he chose to go.

“That is understandable. The way Riko turned out was—unfortunate. I have more hope for Jiro. A second son is a necessity, you understand this. In such a modern time, I do not expect to have need for him, truthfully, but there are ways that things are done that I will not change. All I require is that he know and keep his name. I will only be his father in name, but I will not simply toss him the way my father did. I believe it was the abandonment of Kengo and Taro before him that turned Riko and Tetsuji. I will not have that for a child of mine,” Ichirou said seriously.

Ichirou finally stepped out of the shadows with a toddler on his hip. The baby was sucking his thumb and holding a blanket. Ichirou had an affectionate manner about the way he carried the child. A small boy, about five stood impassively behind Ichirou, this must have been Kazuo.

Neil stepped forward and Andrew lurched behind him as if he had a lag. Ichirou transferred Jiro into Neil’s waiting arms before holding out a hand for his son. Kazuo came immediately to Ichirou’s side and Ichirou placed a soft hand on his son’s head, petting his hair absentmindedly.

“Neil, my tsuma, Kazuo’s mother has just had twin boys—Saburo and Shiro. Jiro is the only child I require you to take for my debt—“ Ichirou paused. Andrew surmised that it must be hard for him to part with his children. The fact that he would even ask attested to how much Ichirou admired Neil. Andrew wondered why Ichirou wouldn’t do away with archaic laws if he cared for his children in the way he so clearly did.

“We will take the children when they are of age, Ichirou,” Andrew said from behind Neil, finally coming to stand beside Neil. “I have my own conditions.”

Ichirou straightened his back before gesturing for Andrew to go on.

“These children will be yours in more than just name. You will come see them. You cannot know, the pain of knowing that you were willfully abandoned.”

A look of pain flashed across Ichirou’s face like lightening ripping across the sky before he schooled his features into impassivity. Kazuo looked up at his father’s face before he stepped forward and grabbed his brother’s foot.

“Otouto.” Kazuo tugged on Jiro’s foot and continued talking only to his brother. “Goodbye, Otouto.”

Andrew watched the exchange, thinking of how he would feel if he was forced to say goodbye to his own brother forever.

“They will know their brother,” Andrew insisted. “Even if it has to be as a friend only.”

Ichirou gave Andrew a sharp look before nodding. “You demand much of me, Mr. Minyard. I see how you and Neil get along amicably, you are both very bossy.” Ichirou picked up his son before taking his leave. Three bodyguards materialized out of the shadows. Ichirou turned at the last moment before climbing in the car that had appeared in their driveway. “They will know their brother and their father. I am certain that their mother will know them even more so. Much like neither of you can control the other, I have no power over my tsuma.”

A small woman climbed out of the other side of the car and sprinted to where Andrew and Neil were standing on silent feet. She took Jiro out of Neil’s arms and spoke softly and insistently to him before handing him back to Neil.

“Love him.” Was the last order that Andrew and Neil received that night before the car drove off into the night, followed by two others.

The baby was asleep then and Neil walked into their room before placing him in the center of the bed. Andrew was behind him immediately pressing him up against the wall, kissing him. Between kisses they shared their fear that they wouldn’t survive the night. They would have to talk about the sleeping child on their bed and his brothers that would soon follow, but that was a conversation for daylight hours. They sunk to the floor together and mapped out every inch of each other’s skin. Cataloguing the pops and cracks their joints made. Laughing when they got a cramp and had to rub the aches out of one another’s skin.

While the baby slept soundly through the night in the middle of their bed, Andrew and Neil took one another apart piece by piece before slowly putting themselves back together. In the dark, there was no way to make sure that they had one another separated. They were two parts of the same whole. In the early morning hours, they fell asleep in one another’s arms on the floor. Nothing could ever separate them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I don't even know. do I continue? do I stop? I DONT KNOW
> 
>  
> 
> someone tell me what to do
> 
> tumblr: conniptionns


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